Golden
by Lady Merlin
Summary: Or, The Five Instances when Jim Kirk was Golden, Plus The One Time He was Not. Shameless Jim-Worship, and Spock-centric. Or Jim-centric, because Spock's thinking about Jim. Many mentions of K/S fluff, which is SLASH. Somewhat Contemplative.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! Here's my attempt to start writing after my prolonged absence which has turned into a dreadful bout of writers block, (even if I have ideas I can't write). It's another good ole' fashioned Five-And-One format (can't get enough of it) and it's titled: The Five Time Jim was Golden and The One Time He Wasn't.

Oh, and I should probably warn you, the 'One' is nothing like what you expect, but better than anything logic dictates. I suppose that weird and un-necessarily cryptic statement will make sense at the end, so why prolong the suspense? READ ON!

P.S. I own nothing.

P.P.S. I've interpreted 'Golden' differently for each one, so yeah. Live with me.

**.~*One*~.**

Jim was golden. He was like nothing Spock had ever seen before, though he had seen Jim everyday for the past five-to-six years. He had seen him every single day, and had never felt as breathless, as awed as he did now.

He was dressed in a white dress suit that none but Captains were allowed to wear. It consisted of an almost blinding white blazer on black dress pants. Many men were there at the ceremony, many of them Captains and Admirals, yet none outshone this man, this young man who had surpassed all expectations and gone so far beyond that words could not describe. Jim was _fable_, name forever scripted in history. Spock found himself unable to fathom what his life would have been like, had Jim not been alive. He would have been living some mundane life on the scorching sands of Vulcan, or perhaps dead, depending on which universe it was. (It was another legend, that only one who had served on the crew of Jim Kirk could speak of such things with such casualty and ease.)

On Jim's lightly tanned skin, his golden hair _glowed_ under his similarly bone white fisherman's hat, almost a nimbus to the archaic seraph.

His suit was trim, fitting him _flawlessly_, skimming his hips like a lover's fingers. His shoulders were surprisingly small, compared to the extreme physical statures of the other Captains and Admirals, the girth of his torso incredibly small. It made him look impossibly fragile, almost breakable, and Spock was reminded again of the hundreds of instances when this man had almost been broken; had almost broken himself for his crew.

The multiple badges on his suit glittered and shone, each on representing one of his heroic (mis)adventures, and eventually he had amassed so many that he only wore five; his captain's badge, a badge given to him by the bridge crew for his birthday, his fathers' badge which his mother had kept in a box, a badge proclaiming him to be a friend of the Federation planets, and lastly a badge which I had given him, when he became my blood brother by Vulcan traditions. I never knew why he wore only these five, until this afternoon when he told me they were the five most important.

My heart had melted and I had been overwhelmed by warm feeling for this man, my Captain, my Hero, my Best Friend, my Brother…

He was everything to me, more than everything, and this was all I could say without becoming openly, absurdly emotional.

But more than what he was to me, he was to _them_, where them refers to everyone else who knew, or had heard of him. This set was staggeringly large, and exceptions were few and far apart.

To them he was a hero of epic proportions, a man unlike any other (which he was), akin to a god. He was _Golden_, where golden is a combination of sentiments which cannot appropriately be expressed with any other word, or combination of words. I did not know what the word Golden meant but Jim was its' definition.

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HEYY! Long time, yeah? _ducks rocks and shoes and multiple assorted nasty objects. _Well? How is it? Yeahyeah I know I should be bloody working on the other fics (5 plus 1s) I've started, but technically I should be working on my mother tongue A levels and A levels Project Work, so don't push me… (pretends people care)

I had this idea and it's not turning out the way I saw it in my mind, but I'm not displeased with it. I'm going all the way and determining this to be a K/S fic all the way! Uhm, yeah. It's supposed to be Kirk-centric, but I love Spock too much, so it'll end up being Spock-being-Kirk-obsessed-centric. Did that make sense? Oh well.

REVIEW!!!

Right, you bastards, you're... you're geography!

Love,

Lady Merlin


	2. Chapter 2

Greetings All! Are thou not pleased that I am continuing thus epic tale? _Ducks more rotten stuff_

What _is_ it with you people are rotten stuff?! Can't you chuck bloody reviews at me? Speaking of which, I hope you all will enjoy this chapter. I've gone outta my way to make Spock's internal monologue as IC as possible, hence the in_credibly_ long sentences. Spock rocks like that.

Either ways, I own nothing; neither Spock nor Jim belong to me. As a matter of fact, they're too damn perfect to belong to the realm of reality, but I'll cross my fingers. ENJOY!

Oh yeah. There's a simple solution to homophobia: don't read this.

**.~*Two*~.**

Jim was covered in a fluid which consisted mainly of water acting as a solute to a significant quantity of chloride salts and contained trace amounts of 2-methylphenol, 4-methlyphenol and urea. It was to be assumed that his exocrine glands were producing this solution as a form of thermoregulation, which was common reflexive behavior in Terran mammals. Doctor McCoy produced a sound not unlike that of a Terran mammal of the family Suidae, commonly known as a pig, and informed me that _normal_ (with unnatural emphasis on the word, indicating an emotion which I found myself unable to decipher) people called it sweat.

This analysis satisfied me to a degree, where in the context satisfaction is not an emotion.

However it left several things unsaid, mainly that Jim exuded an exceedingly_, _almost _intolerable _magnetism, with his well toned body covered in this fluid.

It was impossible to ignore the definition of his exposed muscles, not when it gleamed excessively and caught my eye as it did.

Not to mention, Jim's lissome, fluid motion, his broad, sure swipes and steps as he sparred with some inexperienced ensign. I was fleetingly possessive of Jim in front of the entire crowd that that gathered, despite that fact that I found their logic intact.

I made a note to ensure I engaged in thorough meditation when I was dismissed from duty, to rid myself of these unorthodox and hedonistic thoughts. They were indeed, hedonistic, and violent. I would not speak nor consider of what had occurred to me only moments afore.

His motions, as previously mentioned, were smooth, silken, edging close to seductive. More than a fight, this was a dance between two people, and oh, I desired that I could be Jim's opponent.

Oh, if Jim could touch me. _Anywhere_ would be acceptable, even desirable. Any way, any emotion would be acceptable, be it passion and desire or loathing, but I never intended to let the situation to degrade to the latter.

But I was not naïve. I knew this was foolishness, and if anyone were to find out I would be ridiculed, and a disgrace to the Vulcans that were left.

It didn't stop me from longing.

How could I not? Jim was Golden, the colour of the sun with the strength of Apollo himself. He set the sky on fire come dawn or dusk, and shed light into the darkest corners. How could I not?

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Well? What says the reader? Different from the last one, yeah, but I don't think it's bad. I like Spock's particular brand of aimless thinking.

Either ways. YAY! REVIEW!!!

"There's a door."

"Where does it go?"

"It stays where it is, I think."

Love,

Lady Merlin

P.S. is this one better? Because I got a review telling me that the switch from first to third was jarring, so I went through this again and changed it. Dunno if it's any better, so let me know, yeah? Thanks for the comment!


	3. Chapter 3

Yello everyone! Here's chappie tres! As usual, I hope you know that I don't own Jim and Spock, because if I did, I wouldn't be sharing 'em with you. I'd be alone with them in a room, for days at a time. So there. But they're not, so oh well. I'm borrowing to play with them. :)

**.~*Three*~.**

Jim limped into the sickbay, where I was being treated for extensive damage to my tibialis anterior and quadriceps femoris; mistreatment at the hands of emotional and misguided natives.

It was a sign of his professionalism that Doctor McCoy didn't turn to Jim and ignore me, despite our relationship, or lack-there-of.

But he left me as soon as he had safely completed his task, and rushed to Jim. Jim stood there, wearily smiling at me and the Doctor, before informing him of his imminent collapse. Like prophecy, Jim fell to the floor, revealing to us the true extent of the injuries he received during the short but brutal time spent with the aforementioned natives. Suffice it to say that their appeal to ignorance was no longer sufficient for my mercy; I had a strong urge to commit actions that would in no way benefit anyone, except perhaps bloody my hands, which would make the Doctor very happy.

Jim's back was peppered with bruises which were rapidly changing to shades of black and blue. The extent of bruising revealed exactly how much he must have suffered at the hands of the natives, for the sake of his ship and crew. It would take immense pressure and force to cause this kind of hemorrhage. I felt blood thrumming in my ears, vaguely murderous towards whoever caused this damage to _my_—

I paused. I had begun speaking of Jim in possessive terms, which was unacceptable. The habit had to be stemmed before it caused more damage to my already fragile, shattering control.

Several hours later I still found myself unable to leave his side. He had been stripped to the waist and cleaned up, before the Doctor had commenced healing Jim, for which I was grateful, as it gave me something to do, and a distraction from violent murderous thoughts. I watched Jim heal. He mumbled something about observing growing grass, and I did not bother to decipher it. On occasion, I felt that the Doctor wasn't even speaking Standard. Translating was a time consuming and futile activity.

But it was satisfying. The medicine which the Doctor had applied, though painful (I knew from personal experience) was a good one, and I could see the bruises fading, skipping the phase whence they went an unpleasant yellow colour, and began to smell. I was grateful; I liked how Jim smelled. Like is not an emotion, but a preference, which is not an emotion.

In the night as I (in the Doctor's words)_ sat Shiva_ for the first time, I watched Jim. He was tired, and sore; it showed in his restless sleep. I resisted the urge to meld with him and see what he dreamt of. But I would not violate the mind of a man so high in my esteem. I would not dare damage something so beloved.

He trembled slightly, and I covered him with a light sheet, leaning back in my chair to contemplate.

Even in this condition I had more respect for Jim than for any other man, in the same position or otherwise. Even as I watched his hands shiver and his face twist with sleeping-agony, even as I heard him murmur words which I _knew_ were not connected to the recent misadventure, words which spoke of a harder life than Jim's happy attitude revealed.

Even when he got angry and kicked a table upon being informed of the deaths of two security personnel, I respected him. I knew his anger was not for the intended slight against his reputation or ability, but for the loss of two men for whom he held himself responsible. His human anger, and his grief made him _kin-kur_, golden. As did his humanity and fallibility as he rested in drugged sleep. He could not have greater esteem in my mind, could not be more Golden.

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Watch him go! Go on Spock! Try to convince yourself you don't love Jim! Have fun while you're at it! xD

Yeah I know it's again different from the last one, but what can I say?

I hope you liked it! If you did (or even if you didn't) REVIEW!!!

Luck is my middle name. Mind you, my first name is Bad.

Love,

Lady Merlin

P.S. Ladies and Gen'lemen, THANKS for ALL the reviews! You don't know how happy they've made me! Longlonggloriousreviews! *heart'd* Many thanks to all of you who've flattered me in ways you probably can't imagine (I live on reviews, trust me). I've also taken a few ideas and run away with them, cackling evilly. There will the a follow up on Chapter Two from Jim's POV. I don't know what it's called yet, but keep an eye open for it, yeah? 3


	4. Chapter 4

Hola amigos! Here's chappie four! How many times do I have to tell you? I don't own them!

**.~*Four*~.**

_I shall do Neither, for I have killed my captain… and my friend._

Spock sighed, in an uncharacteristic release of pent up tension. He had no reason to be tense, it was illogical to be tense, yet here he was; tense. He also appeared to have misplaced his control, or broken it. The smile from the afternoon remained printed in his retina.

It was difficult to accept that Jim had died, and even more so to accept that he was yet alive. It was amazing how the mind could refuse to accept what it could not believe to be true, despite evidence being presented.

Jim's body had been warm, which Spock had attributed to the still warm blood coursing through his veins as his heart didn't stop. One brush, and he could not bear it any longer. The brush had not allowed him a sense of Jim's mind, and consciousness or lack-there-of. He could not bear to think of the mind, once so lithe and luminous, dead and never to think again.

He had quaked to think of never seeing Jim's radiant smile, again.

He knew that under normal circumstances Jim would outlive him. It was logical, and it would happen. In that case he would compose Jim's _v'hak_ and follow him to the Realm of _Reah_ without a second thought. It was where he belonged. It would be his place by Jim's side, through time, history and infinity. He was most certainly not being maudlin; it was honest truth.

Jim had stood there, on the scorching planes and fought him, thinking that they would both live. T'Pring had tricked Jim, betrayed the trust which Spock had bestowed upon every remaining member of his race. For the first time in his life he found himself regretting that T'Pring had survived what had come to be known as the _Narada_ Incident.

Jim had sacrificed _everything_ for him; for Spock. What had Spock done to deserve it?

Even through the cloud in his mind, the adrenaline and erratic thrum of his heart and the burning sun which he was no longer accustomed to, he saw this man, his friend standing in front of him. He knew of the danger and pulled out of himself, loyal to a higher cause than biology, to warn him. To beg that Jim leave, on behalf of his own cowardice. But it was not to be.

The sun shone off Jim's hair, the colour of the sun stars, and _kin-tukh_, a colour he had never quite seen before he met Jim. It reflected off his comparatively fair skin, to Spock's sensitive eyes bathing Jim in gold dust from the stars. The very idea that this was what Jim would sacrifice for him—but the blood-fever was too strong.

He would have blood, and Jim stood in his way, the prince that he was.

Spock had never met anyone so Golden, someone so obviously _vaksurik_. People who did not speak the language never realised, but it was not a word applied casually. _Vaksurik_ was not applied to non-Vulcans, and even amongst them it was rare. But Jim was. He was truly _vaksurik_. Truly beautiful.

He sat there and watched the man slumber, grateful for every time his chest moved. Thankful that his Golden man lived yet.

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Yeah, rambling. I know. Well, _sorry_. I couldn't help it. I had a point but couldn't get to it, so I beat around the bush until I figured out a way to beat the damn bush itself. Either way, I hope it's good!

_V'hak--_a poem or a song for the dead, traditionally composed by the man closest to the deceased

_Vaksurik--_having qualities that delight the senses, esp. the sense of sight

_kin-tukh--_gold as an element

Also I realised I never acknowledged help from the Vulcan Language Dictionary. So, THANK YOU!

REVIEW!!!

For the world is hollow and I have touched the sky

Love,

Lady Merlin


	5. Chapter 5

Namaste! May peace be upon you! Here's chapter five. Again, I own nothing!

**.~*Five*~.**

Jim Kirk stood his ground, brave as any man had ever been and perhaps more.

He was facing an admiral who had not been blessed with a pleasant appearance, instead with a wit sharp enough to slice the fabric of time itself. He had however, been cursed with a sorrowful childhood, so instead of using his wit to further the aims of the Federation, this man chose to spend his time fighting petty battles. It was yet another happenstance that Jim had managed to exacerbate the man many a time during his years in the Academy. No doubt, the Doctor said, he had deserved it, but he held the grudge all the same.

The Admiral was currently attempting to make life as hard as possible for Jim. He had a somewhat limited imagination as he appeared to be of the opinion that to hurt Jim Kirk one must first hurt his crew. He was, however, not wrong in his assumption, despite his brutish methods. Only Spock wished it wasn't true.

Jim paused, only hesitant due to the threat leveled upon his crew. It was a minor threat; one which could take away their shore leaves for the next year. Spock was confident that he spoke for the crew when he said they did not need those shore-leaves. Concession from Jim was not worth such a meager thing. Yet Jim did not think so. He seemed to be bent on fighting for this.

The admiral knew this, and smiled as if victory was already his. He forgot that Jim had Spock behind him, along with every man and woman and alien aboard the ship, as well as many who chose to remain on the ground.

Spock stepped forward, but Jim smiled and it was ruthless, a smile which could make even Spock uncomfortable. He was loath to imagine what it did to those who opposed him, though he had little compassion. Whom-so-ever was in Jim's bad graces had no doubt done something worthy of landing them there.

Jim still stood, only his bearing was relaxed, which Spock could not understand. But he didn't need to. He had complete faith in Jim and Jim's method of reasoning. Jim slid his hands into his pockets, and smiled; this time charmingly.

He spoke, and he _was_ eloquence. He was the embodiment of confidence, and Spock was proud as the man made his point clear, with flawless logic and impeccable calm. There was only a moment to see the admiral's stunned face before other members on the board approved Jim's appeal and shut the link to salvage their fractured dignity.

Spock _loved_ Jim at times like this. Loved him truly, but from afar. He loved that to Jim there was no greater thing than his crew and his ship, yet he loathed that Jim forever put others before himself even in cases when it was uncalled for. Jim had a strange case of self loathing, and it would not be long before Spock told him that Jim _was_ the _Enterprise_. He was her spirit and her mind, and without him, the _Enterprise_ and her crew were just another ship.

He loved that Jim was so strong, so brave and yet so defendable because the things that most threatened to hurt him were things that could be easily negated or ignored. Spock knew the crew would have loved him no less if he had lost the argument that night. He just hoped that Jim knew it too.

And most of all, he loved that Jim could make him unabashedly emotional and loving without trying to, and could comfort him without making anything of it. He had a way of making important things normal so they could deal with them without fear. It was the reason his crew would follow him to hell and back, despite the dangers and the pain. He didn't even care that love was an emotion. If Vulcans did not express emotions, Jim (a species whose set consisted of One) created exceptions, and made him love.

This man was everything the _Enterprise_ strove for; freedom, peace, love, joy, family, home and so many other things. He was worth his weight in Gold, to borrow a phrase from a certain Doctor. He _was_ Gold, Spock thought, not for the first time. He was rare, and precious and valuable. He would be fought over; he would cause wars, and end wars, and he would build metaphorical bridges and build metaphorical temples. Because Jim Kirk was Gold, and he was Gold without trying.

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Yesyes, I know it's shameless Kirk-worship. But who here doesn't worship Jim? (looks for show of hands) No-one, right? See? Everyone loves Jim. Including Spock. Only Spock would be more quiet and more poetic about his not-feelings.

Nice, right? REVIEW!!!!

What's so unpleasant about being drunk?

Why don't you ask a glass of water?

Love,

Lady Merlin

P.S. Hey, ThePurringTribble, WHY CAN'T I FIND YOU ON FFNET?!?!?  
Send me your email or something, I canna reply to your reviews!!!


	6. Chapter 6

_Tonk'peh_ everyone! That's Vulcan for hello! Cool right? Well, unlike that, the uncoolest thing in the world is that I still don't own Star Trek. Damnit, where's that blasted petition I sent out? No one appreciates good old fashioned initiative anymore… _mutters away_

Either way, here's chapter 6, also known as 'plus one'!

Oh. This is the one in which there is ESTABLISHED K/S. That's SLASH folks! There's a simple solution to Homophobia. Don't read it…

**.~*Plus One*~.**

Jim lay there oh his chair, fully dressed, sleeping. Spock had just entered the room, having been delayed by a group of Engineers who required his expertise on dilithium crystals. Jim had no doubt been waiting up for him, and had fallen asleep due to his expected exhaustion. Spock did not mind. He was warmed by the fact that Jim had tried, but the world knew what Lt. Scotty's engineers were like. For the first time in a long time he felt exasperation at them, and didn't feel embarrassed. Jim had taught him so many things after they had confessed to having emotions for each other. Taught him things which Spock had not known existed, like how to not feel ashamed for every emotional slip.

He pulled off his boots and picked Jim up effortlessly, taking him to their bed (their bed!) and depositing him gently. Jim stirred, but didn't wake up, taking Spock's warmer-than-human hand and pressing it against his cheek in his sleep.

Spock smiled and took the rare opportunity to watch Jim sleep. They had had this opportunity less and less in the recent months. They (the recent months) were taking their toll. Jim had previously unnoticed wrinkles in his face, and grey strands in his head of otherwise gold hair. Not very noticeable to an average person, they weighed him down slightly and made him look older than he was. They lent a gravity to him which made people take him more seriously, though it wasn't necessary anymore. Jim Kirk was a name uttered like that of a king or a god, only with more reverence because Jim's actions could be seen; a god was not as obvious, and not as dependable.

Jim was wearing the same grey shirt he had worn to the meeting earlier, and it set off his blue eyes. But now his eyes could not be seen yet he looked beautiful. The tiredness of the day, though soothed at night, was still present. His soft lips were parted in what seemed to be joy; a small, almost invisible turning up at the corners of his lips. Spock remembered what it was like to be the recipient of that smile, and felt warmth in his spine.

Jim had lost all the confidence of the day, though. He had lost the erect posture, and the deliberate but casually placed hands and legs, instead lying sprawled in a tangle of bed sheets and limbs, on his stomach.

Spock was glad that after so many years Jim felt comfortable enough to sleep on his stomach in his room. Even in the privacy of the Captain's room the man slept facing up, ready for an emergency. He only relaxed around Spock. Spock wasn't sure he would be able to share it with anyone else; this privilege when the time came.

Hopefully the day would never come and he would remain Jim's soulmate.

T'hy'la they were, but Spock had his insecurities about Jim. Oft times he wondered why Jim had chosen him, why Jim was still with him. He was so special, why Spock of all people?

But this special aura too, was gone now. It was just Jim, lying simply on the bed, dreaming simple dreams of happiness and peace. His command gold was gone; dressed in casual attire, the urge to salute the man was gone. His hair did not shine in the darkness of the room, though it was most noticeable to Spock.

Jim Kirk, who was the colour of sunshine and had a smile as bright as a thousand bulbs was no longer there. In his sleep he was a tired, honorable, intelligent man of thirty, who had a job that took a lot out of him. He wasn't the man who had started and stopped wars, he was a man who might have two children and a wife and a home in the suburbs. He was the Jim Kirk Spock loved with every fiber of his being, not for his bravery or position or wealth. He loved him for his honesty and friendship which made Spock at home in a world which had rejected him a hundred times, and a hundred times again.

Jim was not golden now. He wasn't even bronze. Jim was _Jim_, and there was nothing more he could be.

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Well? How is it? Like the fluff? I do. REVIEW!!! (I rhyme!)

Hope you all have enjoyed the ride, cuz I have!

"I'm a cat person, myself," she said, vaguely.  
A low-level voice said: "Yeah? Yeah? Wash in your own spit, do you?"

Love,

Lady Merlin

P.S. Tomorrow I have THE biggest presentation I have ever given, because it's an A Level project which I've been working on this whole year. Wish me bucket-loads of luck, and hope that the moderators from the Minstry of Education moderate UP and not down. And that I don't completely forget my script and screw up. Oh god I'm scared. Wish me luck! and sorry for the delay. Life's a total bitch (then you die).


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